


These Brothers of Mine

by wookiekisses



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol, Almost everyone is in greek life and nothing makes any sense, Alternate Universe - College/University, Always a dick William, College Hijinks, Desmond has a potty mouth, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, The Fraternity AU that I shouldn't actually be writing, a nice change from my usual smut and sadness, i apologise in advance, this is basically crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:50:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wookiekisses/pseuds/wookiekisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abstergo University has been a hotbed of controversy and innovation since its foundation. Its students are often brilliant, plowing through societal norms in the name of progress. It also has a thriving Greek life, one steeped in tradition and flooded with people both good and bad. Two Fraternities in particular, Lambda and Tau Mu Rho, have a rivalry that has lasted since the two organizations arrived on campus. </p>
<p>Desmond Miles had no interest in Greek life, but when his father tells him that he must follow in his footsteps and pledge Lambda, Desmond has no choice but to accept his new gang of Brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few little things before you delve into the madness that this is sure to become: 
> 
> 1) Co-educational/'all inclusive' Fraternities do exist. Most of them refer to everyone as Brother regardless of gender, usually after a vote, but I cannot speak for all. That's the system I'm using though. 
> 
> 2) This was partially inspired by Brotherhoot's Frat AU postings. I needed this to be a thing. I won't be using most, if any, of the ideas that Brotherhoot came up with though. This sort of mutated brain child spiraled out of that. 
> 
> 3) If y'all have prompts, questions, or just wanna say hi, hit me up on Tumblr! @nocriminal

"Dad, I'm not doing it," Desmond huffed, folding his arms across his chest. William stared unflinchingly at his son from behind his desk and slowly took a sip of the scotch in his glass. 

"You are," was all that William said in reply. 

"I have no interest in Greek life Dad. I don't want to be a part of your stupid frat, I'm not letting anyone haze me, and I don't have time for it anyway," Desmond argued, his voice starting to rise. It was always this way. William would make decisions for him, Desmond would argue, William would threaten him, and Desmond would begrudgingly comply. This time was no different. 

"I am paying for you to attend college, so either you pledge Lambda  _and_ try to make it through the process, because I  _will_ know if you deliberately screw up and get dropped, or I pull my financial support."

"This is ridiculous! I won't do it," Desmond snarled, throwing his hands up in anger. 

"Have fun with the, oh, hundred and fifty thousand dollar debt you'll accumulate then," William smirked, sipping at his drink again. Desmond sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. There was no arguing with that. He was lucky that his dad was paying for school when so many of his friends were drowning in loans or fighting to the death for scholarships. Desmond wasn't smart enough for scholarships and his father was far too wealthy for Desmond to get any government assistance, so it was either comply with William's demands or be dragged down by debt for the rest of his life. 

"Fine, I'll try and join your stupid frat," Desmond snapped. 

William pulled out his phone as Desmond stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind him. 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Staring up at the massive house, Desmond wondered if he should actually go in. He hadn't been kidding when he said he had no interest, and he was sure that the moment he walked in everyone would know he had been forced to go in. The place was just as big as the rest of the houses on Greek Row, but unlike the flashy, modern house with the letters TMP on the front, or the brick number with pink curtains in every window that he knew belonged to a sorority, this place looked, well, homey. It was well taken care of, the lawn neatly trimmed, the brick walkway leading to the freshly painted red door evenly paved, the windows large yet occupied by cream colored curtains...it was the sort of place Desmond had always wanted to live in, but also the sort of place that Desmond's father would never deign to even look at nowadays. The banner hanging above the door, placed between two bedroom windows, was welcoming however: LAMBDA RUSH WEEK. COME MEET THE BROTHERS, EVENTS START AT 9:30 was spray painted onto a bed sheet in surprisingly neat crimson letters, each framed with the faintest shadow of silver. The first event listed on the sheet was a "Meet and Greet". 

"Better get this over with," Desmond whispered to himself, and he took a step forward. The snow crunched behind him then and Desmond reeled around to find himself almost face to face with a rather crabby looking man in a puffy charcoal parka, a blue scarf pulled up over his nose and mouth so that his glasses fogged with every breath he took, and a young woman who seemed rather comfortable in the cold despite only wearing a thin, waterproof jacket with a hoodie underneath and a knitted beanie. 

"Here for rush week then?" the woman asked, her voice bright and bubbly. Desmond bit back a frown and nodded. 

"Yeah. Desmond," he said, holding out his gloved hand. The woman shook it enthusiastically and elbowed the man beside him. 

"I'm Rebecca, and this bundle of joy here is Shaun." 

"Pleasure," Shaun drawled, shaking Desmond's hand despite the fact that his tone indicated it was the furthest thing from a pleasure he had ever experienced. Desmond's eyebrows raised a bit when he realized the man was British. 

"We should head in, it's almost nine-thirty and I don't want to be late. Bad first impressions and all," Rebecca beamed, and she practically flounced down the walkway to knock on the door. Shaun and Desmond followed after her, Shaun shaking his head as they went. The door creaked open and a man with dark hair and even darker eyes raised his eyebrows at them. 

"Yes?" he asked. 

"We're, ah, we're here for rush week," Rebecca said, her confidence sputtering out ever so slightly under the man's intense gaze. He nodded in approval however and nudged the door open further with his foot, stepping aside so that the three of them could walk in. 

"I'm Malik, Lambda's vice president," the man said once they were inside. 

"Rebecca."

"Shaun." 

Both of them were greeted with a curt yet not entirely unfriendly nod, and then the man turned his eyes on Desmond. Desmond swallowed thickly under his scrutiny, suddenly and furiously hating his father just a bit more, and he had to lick his lips before he found his voice. 

"Desmond," he almost squeaked. Malik hummed quietly and his eyes narrowed. 

"You're William Miles' son," Malik mused. Desmond gritted his teeth and was unable to help the flash of anger that crossed his face. 

"Unfortunately," he sighed. Surprisingly, that drew a chuckle from Malik. 

"Hang your coats and such on any one of the hooks in the foyer. We are all meeting in the social lounge, it's just down this hall and to the left when you're ready," Malik instructed, and then he was gone. 

"Friendly chap, eh?" Shaun murmured, finally shedding his scarf. He had a pleasing sort of face, all strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, stubble, and flashing eyes, and Desmond shoved the thought into the back of his head. He had quickly realized that just because he was at college didn't mean it was always safe to be open about his sexuality, and so he always tested the waters before he revealed himself to the entire world. 

"He wasn't that bad," Rebecca grinned, tossing her coat and then her hoodie onto a free hook. She was wearing a long sleeved white v neck under it, topped by a snug fitting grey, black, and red vest that was both sporty and stylish. When her beanie was removed, spiky, black hair fell forward to brush across her forehead. Her black skinny jeans were nice yet casual, and Desmond let out the breath he had been holding. At least he wasn't over or under dressed for the occasion based on her appearance. Shaun, on the other hand, was wearing nicely pressed khakis, a navy sweater, and a powder blue dress shirt under it. He even had on a tie. A  _tie._  Desmond's panic returned and he tugged on the bottoms of his button down, hoping it was nice enough to pass with his best pair of jeans and no tie.  _Fucking Dad_ he thought bitterly, following the other two down the hall. 

The social lounge was a spacious room littered with comfortable, second hand couches, a few coffee tables, and a wall lined with bookshelves. Desmond's throat tightened when he saw how full the room was. It was easy to figure out who was there for rush week and who was a Brother; anyone who looked terrified or far too comfortable was a rushee, anyone who looked comfortable and was wearing something with the heavily stylized lambda that denoted them as a member of the Brotherhood. Desmond spotted Malik talking to another dark skinned man whose eyes were an almost unnaturally bright shade of amber. The man looked up and stared at Desmond, who suddenly felt like he was a rabbit caught in a hawk's gaze. He took a few steps backward, but the man waved him over and began to approach. 

"So you're Desmond Miles," he said. His accent was similar to Malik's, but it was lighter and he didn't talk in the same clipped, precise manner as Malik. "My name is Altaïr. It's nice to meet you." 

"Ah, same to you," Desmond said awkwardly, shaking Altaïr's extended hand. He glanced down at his shoes and upon looking back up noticed that Altaïr was missing a finger on his left hand and had a scar running down his lip, very similar to the scar that Desmond had on his own face. 

"Your father called us a few days ago to let us know that you would be coming," Altaïr offered when he noticed just how confused Desmond looked. 

"Of course he did," Desmond said. Altaïr let out a laugh and clapped Desmond on the shoulder. 

"I am glad to know that William's...unique nature is not just directed towards us," he grinned. "Come, there are a few others I would like you to meet before we get started with the more official stuff." 

Desmond allowed himself to be guided through the crowd, spotting Shaun talking animatedly with a blonde man with a neat little beard and Rebecca cackling next to a roguish man with long, sandy locks hanging half in his face, until Altaïr stopped him in front of a tan man with dark hair pulled back into a small ponytail.

"Ezio, I'd like you to meet Desmond," Altaïr said, interrupting Ezio's conversation with a surly looking man and his two more cheerful companions.

"Ah, so this is the one we've all been warned about, eh?" Ezio asked, grasping Desmond's shoulders lightly. He too had an accent, one that Desmond could identify as Italian with certainty, just thick enough that Desmond knew it probably made men and women alike swoon.

"I guess. Wait, warned about? What exactly did my dad say?" Desmond asked, brows furrowing in annoyance.

"Oh, only that his son was coming to rush week, and to not go easy on him despite him being a legacy. And that you were, and I quote, 'the most stubborn, hardheaded, and directionless boy he had ever met'," Ezio said, although he was grinning broadly. Desmond felt his face flush in embarrassment and he made a mental note to leave his father a scathing text or four later. 

"I can see that he wasn't wrong," Altaïr commented, nudging Desmond warmly. "I'm going to go talk to some of the others, we'll be beginning soon." 

Altaïr disappeared into the crowd like a ghost, and Desmond did not see him again until he was standing up on a table clapping his hands. The noise in the room dulled to a chatter before ceasing completely. 

"Okay. Thanks. Uh. My name is Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, and I'm the current president of Lambda. I hope that all of you who are here as rushees have gotten a chance to chat with some Brothers and with each other before now, but if you haven't there will be plenty of time after this little talk," he began, looking down at all of the people in the room. "I'm going to start by telling you a little bit about us. We're what you would call an 'all-inclusive' fraternity, meaning that we do not bar anyone entrance based on their race, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, mental or physical disabilities and/or illnesses, major, or social status. We abide by a strict non-discrimination policy that prohibits any behavior that would fall into a discriminatory category. If you are not okay with potentially pledging with and becoming Brothers with someone who is of a certain group, there's the door." 

He paused, gesturing towards the hallway. The rushees all looked at each other uncomfortably, and Desmond frowned a bit as a few people filed out the door. This did not appear to discourage Altaïr, however. 

"Excellent. Now that the bigots are gone, I will introduce our executive board. To my left is Mailk Al-Sayf, our vice president." He paused and let Malik wave once. "Directly in front of me is our treasurer Claudia Auditore. To her right is Ezio Auditore, yes they're related, head of publicity and conduct. Somewhere in the crowd is Leonardo da Vinci, ah, there he is, wave Leo, and he's in charge of domestic affairs and our peer tutoring program." 

Desmond made a note of each of their faces, but he sort of tuned out after that, letting Altaïr drone on about how glad they all were that they were here, how not everyone would be guaranteed an invitation to pledge, blah, blah, blah. He didn't tune in again until Altaïr's voice took on a sharp edge. 

"If you do receive an invitation to pledge, know that it will  _not_ be easy. While we comply with all federal, state, and university set hazing policies, we will not just grant everyone who walks through those doors the title of Brother. You will earn it through your own hard work, dedication, and discipline. I don't care who you are, if you're a legacy," his eyes met Desmond's, who barely managed not to flinch, "a newcomer, man, woman, both, neither, genius or someone who is barely scraping by. If you don't pull your own weight, we certainly won't pull it for you." 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Well that was a cheerful speech," Shaun drawled later when Desmond was pulling on his coat. 

"Sounds like the sort of thing my dad would say," Desmond replied, zipping his coat up to his chin. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to find his gloves. 

"Hard work and discipline aren't exactly bad standards to set for your children."

Desmond snorted. "Trust me, he takes it to a whole new level. He's kind of a dick." 

"Aren't most parents though?" Rebecca chimed in, her head poking out of the top of her hoodie but her arms still stuffed into the torso. 

"I guess?" Desmond shrugged. Rebecca grinned at him and slid her arms through the sleeves. 

"Yeah, well, I'm actually pretty stoked about tomorrow. I'm really digging the whole 'bigots go home' vibe Altaïr was throwing down earlier," she beamed. Desmond had to agree with her. That was something that actually threw him for a loop. His father seemed to be a harbinger of intolerance, scolding Desmond for every little infraction he made against the expectations that William set for him...how had he been a part of a group like this? 

"Me too," Desmond said, shaking off the speculation with a small smile of his own. "See you guys tomorrow?" 

"You betcha." 

"I suppose." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're joking, right?"  
> "Nope, not one bit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual stuff happens in this chapter, yay!

"Hey Des, you've got somethin'," Desmond's roommate called out, holding up a thick, creamy envelope. Desmond frowned, but took it from him anyway. 

"Thanks Frederick," Desmond replied, examining the envelope carefully. His name was written on the front in surprisingly beautiful script, almost as if it had been done with a calligraphy pen, and the envelope was sealed with a blob of red wax with Lambda's seal on it. Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Desmond opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. 

_Dear Desmond,_

_The Brothers have decided to extend to you an offer to pledge the Lambda Brotherhood. You have met and/or exceeded our initial expectations, and we were rather impressed by what we have seen so far. If you accept this invitation, then your presence will be required at the Lambda house tomorrow evening, Saturday, January 9th, at 8:00 PM. Although there is no strict dress code, we ask that you wear something presentable and bring this invitation with you. You will not be admitted into the house without it._

_Tell no-one of this, and remember that this invitation does not guarantee your initiation into the Brotherhood. Should you accept, your journey is just beginning._

_Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad_

_President of Lambda Fraternity, Alpha Chapter_

 

 

Desmond read the letter a few more times and then carefully folded it back up, stuffed it into the envelope, and shoved the envelope in his sock drawer. 

"What was that about then?" Frederick asked, leaning back in his desk chair so he could look at Desmond. Desmond shrugged casually. 

"Just some weird letter, nothing to worry about. How's that book you have to read for class? I know you were bitching about it earlier," Desmond said, changing the subject. Frederick's eyes lit up and he started rambling on about this book he had to read for his theater class, gesturing wildly to emphasize certain points. Desmond smiled and flopped down into one of the bean bag chairs they had managed to cram into their little dorm room, pushing the letter from his mind. That was tomorrow's problem. 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

For some reason, the red door to Lambda's house seemed a bit bigger and more intimidating as Desmond stood in front of it, letter clutched in his right hand. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, nearly glaring at the door, when Shaun and Rebecca walked up. Desmond's eyebrows rose in surprise. From what he had gathered, Shaun was a prickly, sarcastic man with a grudge towards Americans that made no sense considering that he chose to attend an American university. Then again, most of the Brothers he had met were from places other than the United States originally. Thinking on it, Desmond was pretty sure he was one of the only Americans other than Rebecca even interested in joining the Fraternity. Weird. 

"Why are you just standing there? It's cold as hell," Shaun huffed, folding his arms across his chest while he waited for Desmond to move. 

"It seems...bigger than last time," Desmond replied honestly. 

"I can assure you that the door has not changed size; now get a move on or get out of my way," came the crabby reply. Desmond rolled his eyes at this and stomped up the stairs, shaking snow from his boots as he went. This time it was him that knocked on the door, and it swung open almost immediately. Altaïr was standing there, dressed far more formally than he usually was, a white shirt on with a red tie. 

"Invitations?" he asked, glancing over the three of them as if he hadn't met them before. Desmond held out his slightly crumpled envelope, Shaun produced his from a pocket inside his coat, and Rebecca slipped it out of her messenger bag. 

"Follow me." 

They shed their things in the hallway as usual and then trailed after Altaïr, eyes widening when he led them down a few more hallways and into a broad, beautiful dining room. All of the Brothers were lounging about in their chairs, chatting casually amongst themselves at one end of the table, and those who Desmond assumed had also gotten letters were sitting at the other end of the table. He recognized the tall, quiet man from the first night, but the other three he hadn't met. Maybe they had shown up to the events that Desmond hadn't been able to make because of class. 

"Hey," he said, sitting down next to the one person other than Shaun and Rebecca that he recognized. 

"Hi," the man replied, his dark eyes flicking over at Desmond briefly. 

"I'm Desmond," Desmond offered, holding out his hand. The man turned to face him more fully, but did not take his hand. 

"Ratohnhaké:Ton," he grinned, and so Desmond took his hand back. 

"I...can I get that one more time?" Desmond asked. The man laughed softly and shook his head in amusement. 

"Just call me Connor, most people do," he suggested. Blushing faintly, Desmond nodded. 

"Thanks. It's just, well, it's sort of a mouthful."

"I'm used to it," Conner shrugged. 

"So where are you from?" Desmond asked. The man's name was, well, complicated, but he didn't have an accent like the others did. 

"New York," Connor answered, leaning back in his hair. He brushed a few strands of hair that had fallen out of his short half ponytail back, and it was then that Desmond noticed the braid he wore, decorated with beads at the bottom. "And you?" 

"South Dakota." 

"Ah, so lots of open space and not much to do then?" Connor asked. 

"Pretty much. What part of New York are you from? Not the city, right?" 

"Nope, upstate actually. I live on the reservation up there." 

Desmond hummed at this, making a mental note of it. For him it was easier to piece together why people were the way they were when he knew where they came from. Altaïr and Malik, both from Syria, were far more reserved than, say, Ezio and Claudia, both of whom were boisterous and almost overly tactile. Rebecca was from Colorado, which explained not only her cold tolerance, but some of the more...stoner-y aspects of her personality. Shaun...well, he was Shaun. 

 

Just as Desmond turned to introduce himself to the woman sitting to his left, a thin, pale, sharp looking woman with bright eyes and a dangerous grin, Altaïr cleared his throat. 

"So. You've all chosen to accept your invitations to pledge," he began. The room fell silent and the Brothers all stared down the table at them. Desmond refused to be intimidated and stared right back, a tactic that one of the others, a man with a scruffy beard and long-ish hair, employed as well. "Congratulations." 

"You will each be given a handbook, which we expect you to keep with you at all times," Malik began, standing up from his seat. He walked over to them and placed a small, thick book with a red cover in front of each of them. "The only exception to this rule are when you are attending parties. Otherwise, have it on you. Keeping it in a backpack or purse will suffice, but do not lose this book. In it is all of the information you will need to know in order to pass this process." 

Desmond flipped the book open and glanced at the table of contents. There were several chapters, but overall it didn't seem too bad. Hopefully. 

"We will be giving you weekly assignments, which we expect you to complete before each meeting. Failure to complete them without a reasonable excuse, such as illness, and not just 'oh I have a cold', like actual illness, will result in us dropping you from the process," Altaïr continued, picking up where Malik left off. Desmond had to respect the way the two worked together, forming a unit that was both formidable and seamless. "We haven't had a class this big survive with all members still there by the end since before I even pledged. Maybe you will change that." 

"I certainly would hope so," Shaun muttered, tapping the book with his fingers. Desmond glared at him in a  _don't talk when Altaïr is talking_ manner, but the Brit only glared back. 

"For now, we expect you all to get together both as a group and individually by next Saturday. You are now the Delta Lambda pledge class, and you're all going to have to work together if you want to finish this process," Malik added, returning to his seat. "After dinner you will have some time to collect each other's information and fill out some paperwork the University wants." 

Desmond bit back a groan. When was he going to have time to hang out with six other people  _and_ go to a group thing? Looking at the others, he could tell that they all were thinking the same thing, with the exception of the scruffy beard guy. Great. 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You're joking, right?" Desmond asked as Shaun held out a tiny day planner. It was highlighted to perfection, each day blocked out perfectly. 

"Nope, not one bit," Shaun replied, passing Desmond a pen. "I like to stay organised, it's the only way I ever finish anything. So. Pick somewhere that isn't coloured in and write your name down. If we're being forced to spend time together, it might as well be convenient for the both of us." 

Rolling his eyes, Desmond pulled out his phone and opened an app. 

"There's this thing called Google Calendar, it's totally worth investing in because, oh wait, it's actually free," he teased, comparing the two schedules side by side. Shaun scowled at him. 

"I know what Google Calendar is, I'm not an idiot. I just don't trust Google with my daily life, alright?" Shaun huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Desmond thought the look of irritation on his face was actually somewhat adorable and decided that torturing Shaun to see that same look of exasperation from time to time might be worth it. He wrote his name down in a free square and passed the book and pen back to Shaun. 

"Dear lord, your penmanship is atrocious. How can you even read this?" Shaun muttered, squinting at Desmond's name. 

"It's my handwriting Shaun, of course I can read it. Also, it's not that bad." 

The woman who had been sitting next to Desmond at dinner plucked the book out of Shaun's hands and looked at it briefly. 

"No, it's actually that bad," she commented after a moment. "Evie Frye by the way. Pleasure. The scruffy lump over there by Connor is my brother Jacob." 

"Desmond."

They shook hands and Desmond pondered his luck. Three Brits in the class. Hopefully they all wouldn't be as pissy as Shaun. He glanced at Jacob just in time to see him clap Connor on the back, and the taller man winced and almost flinched away from the touch. 

"He really doesn't like being touched, does he?" the remaining man asked. Desmond glanced over at him and shook his head. 

"No, I don't think so. Desmond, by the way." 

"Henry." 

"Nice to meet you." 

Just then, Ezio started yelling about taking a picture of all of them together and they shuffled into a clump. As Jacob's arm settled on Desmond's shoulder and Rebecca squirmed up against his side, Desmond felt his lips twitching upward of their own accord. There were a few moments of chaos as Leonardo shuffled them all around, tilting bodies this way and that (although refraining from touching Connor) until the shot was, in his words, 'perfect'. Ezio snapped a few with his phone while Leonardo used a professional grade camera. 

"Bene, thank you! Now go home and get some sleep, we're not allowed to keep you past midnight anyway!" Ezio barked good naturedly, drawing a laugh from the shortest individual in the group, who Desmond had been told was only to be referred to as "Kidd" unless he was told otherwise. 

"Go on, scram, before all the creepers come out," Kidd laughed. They filed out the door one at a time, and for once in his life, Desmond wasn't so sure that listening to his father was a bad idea. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I poked around a bit, and Connor's tribe has land in Upstate New York as well as in Ontario and along the St. Lawrence River in Quebec. The property was purchased in 1993, which, if Connor is a freshman in this story, makes it possible for him to have been born there as opposed to in Canada.

**Author's Note:**

> So the first chapter is a bit of an exposition, but it's setting the stage for all of the shenanigans to come :) and for those of you wondering, yes, some fraternities actually have incredibly strict non-discrimination policies. my fraternity is one of them.


End file.
